


Wanted

by Thatoneguyyoudidntknowfromtumblr



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 16:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4442510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatoneguyyoudidntknowfromtumblr/pseuds/Thatoneguyyoudidntknowfromtumblr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I found this in an old archive, I have no idea where it was going.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> I found this in an old archive, I have no idea where it was going.

Being a medic was something that he had once enjoyed greatly. He was built for it, after all, mentored in it and had once been in charge of his own clinic. Now, though he held a prestigious rank in the Autobot forces, only an almost-daily infusion of engex made it possible to tolerate being a medic. A conscript for the war was not something he had ever imagined himself being but when Sentinel Prime said jump, the rest of Iacon had no choice but to ask how high.

It was better, now, than it had been. Ratchet had a couple of friends in the engineering and science core that he didn't have to worry much about, others among the soldiers that passed across his repair table far too often than was good for his sanity and one friend that might even become something more. It almost made up for the fact that he had been drafted against his will and the fact that there was a war on.

At the moment he was staring at one of his more perplexing acquaintances, whose words had just about shattered the peaceful buzz he had been enjoying a few moments before Jazz had started to speak. "Excuse me?" He asked, his tone conveying the vast bewilderment and skepticism he was currently feeling.

The smaller black and white mech seemed to be entirely earnest, which was equally as confusing as what he had just said. "I want you t'come with me."

Sliding an optic along the other mech's scruffy armor, the medic was hard-pressed to work up any kind of amiable feelings for whatever was ahead of them. "I'm off shift, Jazz. I'm tired. I'm going to enjoy this engex, go back to quarters and pass out until the next emergency or my next shift, whatever comes first."

"That would be a distinctly bad idea," Jazz said, glancing over his shoulder. Ratchet knew this mood of the younger mech's-- he was deep in his paranoid mindset. He sighed and made a gesture to the bar tender, who brought him two shots of a decent engex.

"Here. Relax." Pushing one of the shots into Jazz's hands, the medic downed the other, regarding the younger mech again while feeling the pleasant hum of the engex in his systems.

The fact that Jazz, despite enjoying his engex as much as the next mech, didn't touch the shot he was given was what really started to bring home for Ratchet the fact that the black and white was entirely serious. Rolling his neck to loosen it, Ratchet subspaced the rest of his original serving of engex and dropped a credit stick onto the counter which had enough on it to cover his tab plus a little extra for the tender. From the minute shifts in Jazz's posture, Ratchet knew the youngster was watching his every move despite not being able to see his optics past his vividly blue visor.

Without another word, Jazz led Ratchet from the bar and into the city, keeping to the main roads but somehow bypassing the traffic that always congested Iacon this time of night. To the medic's surprise, the drive was rather pleasant and brought to mind the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he had just gone driving. Then again, he couldn't remember the last time he had the time to just go driving, between medical shifts, recharge and medical emergencies. Preoccupied with that sobering thought he just about missed it when Jazz changed lanes to aim himself down a seemingly random alleyway.

Growling unkind things about Jazz's parentage and habits to himself, Ratchet shot after the smaller mech, almost clipping another driver and ignoring the shout of protest followed by a screech of metal on metal behind him. Jazz suddenly appeared behind him and shoved him through a door that he only barely avoided leaving paint scrapes on with a twist and less than graceful transformation. Thanks to the engex he was relaxed enough that he didn't tense at the abrupt movement, allowing him to keep his feet after stumbling a couple of paces. He turned to glare at his companion, putting on his best evil look.

"Okay, that's enough. You're gonna explain what's goin' on or I'm not moving another inch!"

Before he could get into even a half-way decent rant, Jazz had transformed and grabbed him by the shoulder, hauling him up a set of stairs and into a hallway. "In a bit," the black and white said quietly, locking the door before melting the lock with a well-placed low power shot from a laser pistol.

"Not 'in a bit'," Ratchet started again, only to be silenced by Jazz shoving the pistol into his hands and again grabbing him by the shoulder, encouraging him to follow not quite politely. The medic was beginning to realize that whatever Jazz was running from it was serious-- particularly when he faintly heard the sound of the door Jazz had locked with the pistol being blown open. "Okay," he said quietly, reaching to catch Jazz by the shoulder this time, "who are you running from?"

"Ain't me they're after," Jazz said just as softly, not glancing back. "It's you."


End file.
